Nous Souhaitons
by strbck23
Summary: Her wish is his wish. Post-Je Souhaite.


Thanks to WildwingSuz for another beta.

Thanks to Sylvanie Penn for answering my request for help with the French title, which translates to "We Wish."

* * *

On my way back to his couch from the bathroom, I grab us another couple of beers. I screw the top off of his, just to make a show of not missing when I toss the caps.

"You invite me over for beer and a movie, Mulder, and you don't even have a whole six pack?" I fold my legs so that my toes are under his thigh, warming my socked feet, facing him now.

"I didn't realize you'd want more," he smiles and rests his arm over the back of the couch, next to me. When I shrug, I suppose he decides that I don't want more bad enough that he'll have to go out, because he returns his attention to the movie.

After a minute my feet are pleasantly warm, so I pull them out and turn just enough to comfortably see the TV, with my legs still tucked up in front of my chest. When I rest my head on his shoulder, he does not hide the fact that he smells my hair.

We've been lovers for a short time now, and this is how it goes. We don't make plans for these nights. It is never expected, and usually happens once or twice between cases. I've drawn a big line in the sand where work is concerned, and am proud that we've only slipped once. There was a heavy makeout session that all but forced me to enforce a new rule that we would not sit on the same bed when talking in each other's rooms.

After another scene, he rubs my back and I close my eyes, enjoying his touch more than this movie. His nose is in my hair again, and he mumbles against my scalp, "I've got some tequila the guys left one night…"

I think for a beat, finding my hand on his leg, stroking near his knee. "Are you _trying_ to get me drunk, then?"

"Well, considering that Drunk Scully gets tattoos and almost makes out with me-not-me, perhaps it's time I meet her. If you'll introduce us."

"One shot."

He kisses my head before he gets up to retrieve the booze. Upon returning he sets down the bottle and two glasses, distractedly pouring our shots and laughing at the movie.

After we clink our glasses, he watches me as we both swallow the gold liquid then quickly swig our beer, each challenging the other to react first. My eyes water and I breathe fire, refusing to show weakness until I laugh into the back of my hand at our respective stubbornness.

He smiles and blinks slowly, the alcohol just beginning to affect him. When his focus returns to the screen, I realize I'm over this story, if I was ever interested in the first place.

"Mulder," I say, turning to face him with my legs folded up between us again. "Will you tell me what you wished for?" I don't believe that woman was any more special than the next person, but I couldn't deny the things I'd seen the last few days no matter how hard I tried.

He is smiling, eyes on the TV, arm draped over the cushions again. He looks very appealing.

"It doesn't matter, Scully."

"Of course, it's matters. I'd like to know if you'll tell me."

"Scully," he murmurs, not budging.

"Come on," I prod, poking at his ribs, wondering for the first time if he's ticklish. So many years together, and we are still learning these things.

"Stop," he says, trying to ignore me until I grope low on his flanks. "Stop!" he squeaks urgently before trying to even out his voice. "I'm trying to watch this movie."

"It's lame. Talk to me." I'm feeling pretty saucy, but he's the one who gave me tequila. I continue to seek out new ticklish spots, so finally he concedes and gives up on Caddyshack, laughing and trying to tickle me back. Little does he know that I have only one ticklish spot that gets me going, and he would have to find that and make me laugh hard enough to be ticklish anywhere else. Luckily, he is nowhere near that secret spot where my torso meets my legs, he's searching in vain down my sides, first at my waist, then high up on my ribs under my arms

"Scully, cut it out!"

When I fail to comply, he gently but firmly grips me, moving my hands behind my back. His hands are large enough that he is able to subdue me by looping the fingers of his left hand over both of my wrists. He takes a breath, smiling, still containing laughter. "There, that's better."

I am up on my knees now, struggling against his strong hand, and he applies only as much pressure is needed to restrain me. My eyes burn into his, and I secretly enjoy it just enough to not ask him to let me go. He challenges me with his gaze, and I see that spark of arousal mirrored back from him.

When I resist a bit more, I yelp as I lose my balance and fall forward over his thighs. Fortunately, I had backed away from him on my knees enough that my face manages to miss the arm of the couch, and now my forehead rests on the opposite couch cushion.

"Mmm, nice," I think I hear him mumble, and am reassured that he did when he switches the hand that's gripping me and now rubs my ass with his left hand.

I swallow and feel my heartbeat accelerate, justifiably instinctively afraid of being subdued. But this is Mulder, not anyone to be afraid of.

"Now, Scully, I could let you go if only you'll cut that shit out and let me watch the end of my movie in peace." And I know by the tone of his voice that he's turned on, also. But he is giving me an out. He patiently strokes my buttocks and gives me time to consider his offer.

And this is why I trust him, my Mulder. I trust him more than I trust God. I had had a spiritual crisis when I realized this fact a while back, my heart and soul did not object but my brain had a problem with it. Eventually I let it go, deciding not to bring it with me to confession, because I decided that Mulder had earned that trust. Ultimately I felt no guilt nor remorse for these feelings and if I was wrong for them I would pay the price when the time came.

And with that trust, rather than asking him to let me go, I decide to see what will happen. I turn my face so that I'm not breathing right into leather, shaking my head defiantly as I rest my cheek on the cool material. I struggle against his hold on me so that he has to strengthen his grip once more.

My eyes had closed but they fly open and I gasp loudly when I feel the sting. He just spanked me. My pulse is sky high, my respiration necessarily rises in response, and for just a moment I'm angry before I realize I'm incredibly aroused.

I know, of course I do, that if I asked him to let me go and told him I didn't like that, he'd be begging my forgiveness or doing whatever he felt he needed to do to attempt to make up for it. I also know that he's wondering if he's going to have to do just that. I leave him hanging for just a moment more before struggling once more. We both know that besides just asking, I could easily get out of such a grip, having been taught self defense at the Academy.

He groans, and I know that sound. He's very turned on, perhaps more than he's ever been before, with me anyway.

After he pops me again, he rubs, helping to ease the burn. "Scully, you're making me so hard right now. Jesus."

"What do you want me to do about it?" I ask stubbornly.

And his low growl is perhaps the single most arousing thing I've ever heard. He grips flesh high on the swell of my bottom, then rubs down low so that his fingers barely stroke my crotch through my clothes.

I know what he wants me to do about it. I don't even know why I haven't, yet. He's performed oral on me several times. Perhaps it's because he's always so eager to please me, that before I can reciprocate he's already inside me, trying to make me come again. His eagerness to please me has fueled many a daydream.

He won't say it, he would never ask, so I'll have to give him a push. "Do you want me to suck your cock?" My choice of words shocks even me. Mulder, meet Drunk Scully. Or at least Sufficiently Buzzed Scully.

"Yes," he croaks. No witty remarks, but I imagine his blood has travelled south.

"You're gonna have to let me go, then."

"Oh, yeah." He does so, and helps me upright. I rise to my knees again and rub my wrists, not moving too fast for fear of losing my balance. He keeps his eyes on mine as he takes each of my hands, kissing me where it hurts. I stroke his face, then kiss his lips softly before moving to crouch down in front of him.

"Wait," he requests just before I reach for his fly. "Take off your top," he commands and looks as if he might want to spank me again if I deny him.

So I stand, only acting as if I might defy him for a moment. Once I comply though, I waste no time removing my top and also tossing aside my bra.

"Yes…" he stares, his hands clenching at his sides. He gawks at my chest as I leer for a moment at the knot in his jeans where he strains against the denim. "Come here," he orders, as if I want anything else.

He adjust his hips and I kneel before him. I run my hands up the insides of his thighs.

"Hurry up," he orders, so I give him my most insolent stare before finally submitting and freeing him from his pants, getting them and his boxers down just enough so that I have access to his swollen manhood. He directs me to touch him, so I do. I run my palm up the entire length of him.

And since he's not the boss of me, I grip him gently and take the engorged head in my mouth before he can tell me when to do it. His entire body tenses and he utters something that sounds like my name. Still, I take no more for the time being, sucking only on the sensitive tip of him.

Eventually, I begin pumping my fist, and caressing his testicles, discovering what he likes. I take him almost fully inside my mouth a few times. I am not confident enough in my abilities to attempt to deep throat this time, but he doesn't seem to mind.

"Scully, stop."

He's not even that close, so I hum against him and he sighs his approval, but continues to try to stop me with my hands on his face.

"Uhh...oh God, come on. Scully, I wanna be inside you."

The taste of him is my favorite part. His body wash, his musk, his salt. "Unh uh," I resist, enjoying myself too much.

So he makes me. After a flurry of movement, he's lifted me up, undressed me so that the only thing left is my socks, and bent me over so that I am facing his fish. I lick my lips and watch them endlessly swimming through my hooded eyes, waiting for Mulder to take me from behind.

He's much too impatient to remove his own pants, barely has time to rip off his shirt. He caresses my shoulder and prods at my slit with a finger to test my readiness before aligning himself to enter me. His actions have been demanding, but his thumb strokes my neck, over the implant, questioning if I'm ok.

I nod and grip the arm of the couch, more than ready for him.

So he pushes inside, giving me only as much time to adjust as is needed before he begins moving. He wastes no time, quickly seeking the angle that is most beneficial to me. He holds my shoulder and hip. My breasts move with his thrusts in a sensation that would have once upon a time been uncomfortable to me, but I love being his woman and I love what he does to me.

After I come, I squeeze around him. Typically it doesn't take him long to join me, but he's not getting there so easily this time. I wonder if it's the alcohol.

I am trying everything I know, moaning loudly and telling him how good he feels, but to no avail. And now I'm drying out quickly as I often do in this position.

I grit my teeth and bear it as long as I can, but he knows and before I even have to say anything he stops moving.

"Damn it," he says through clenched teeth. He pulls out of me and sits back, motioning for me to sit down next to him.

"You ok?" I reassuringly take his hand, hoping he's not feeling as if he failed in any way.

"Yeah," he says between slowing breaths, looking at me a moment before closing his eyes. "Just need a minute."

I kiss and then rest my cheek on his shoulder.

Eventually, he leans forward and takes a swig of tequila straight from the bottle before offering it to me. While I take my own swig he kicks off his jeans and underwear. He trots off to the kitchen and returns with a glass of water, offering me a better chaser than warm beer.

After a few sips, I hand him the glass which he sets on the coffee table. He silently offers his hand and helps me up, leading me to the bedroom. Once there, he pulls back the covers and lays me down. When he is over me again, he kisses my lips, and then my neck, seeking out the most sensitive place there in the crook.

His hand is between us, and he strokes my clit; his aim is to get me wet for him again, and he is successful. "The jinniyah."

"Mmm." Annoyance.

"No, I want to tell you my wish."

"Mmm." Curiosity.

"I set her free."

I sigh. Disbelief. Not that he would do something of the sort, but that she needed freeing to begin with.

He smiles at my reliable skepticism and enters me again, still kissing my neck between sentences. "She gave me another wish. They are allowed one wish to start their new life with, and she gave it to me. She said I need not worry about wording or consequences, she would make it right, as long as I wasn't going to try to be a hero for mankind."

I don't say anything, only raise my legs higher on his sides, enjoying the feel of his lazy movements.

"I wished that your wish could come true, that you could have a child."

"Oh, Mulder," I sigh and stop his movements, tears filling my eyes. I realize now that this is why he couldn't come in the living room, because whether or not I believe, he does.

He pushes my hair off of my forehead-I don't know how he always knows it's there in the near dark-before turning his head and whispering in my ear. "I want to put a baby in you, Scully."

"Oh." Arousal. Intoxication. Optimism. "I want to believe," I whisper back, encouraging him to move again.

When we come, it's together, for the first time since we started this new chapter. When I sleep, I dream of having a baby girl that he suggests we call Jenn, after someone I'm pretty sure I believe in, now.


End file.
